


Corporate Measures

by pseudosmodingium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Smith, Dean Smith AU, Frottage, M/M, Office Sex, Porn with Feelings, Top Castiel (Supernatural), porn with a little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23597767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudosmodingium/pseuds/pseudosmodingium
Summary: Dean Smith has worked hard to get where he is now and is dedicated to keeping it that way. The downside of his busy and affluent lifestyle is, however, the lack of time for any kind of private life. Fortunately, he doesn't even have to leave his office building to get down to serious business with gorgeous, successful Castiel Novak. And then it’s not just about the sex.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Smith, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 101





	Corporate Measures

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly smut. But it also has feelings because I can't write porn without feelings.

Thank Sandover for this place! If he had to leave the building, maybe drive a few minutes, find parking space, do his workout in an external gym, and drive back to the office, Dean would probably have quit going to the gym altogether by now. It’s unfortunate enough that he can’t go as often as he used to. But his new diet has helped losing a few of the nasty pounds he’s gained meanwhile.

The appliances are high-end and by the time he usually gets to come around here, he’s got the place to himself. He starts his routine with thirty minutes of cardio—forty-five if it’s been a particularly stressful day. Then he checks off a few machines for his upper body and core strength. Last comes the plank and Dean will never not despise this specific exercise. But it’s _a must,_ so he tries to breathe steadily through clenched teeth and suffers in silence.

He concludes his workout with a round of stretching. He’s usually neglected this part. When his sister took him to yoga class last weekend, however, Dean realized how inflexible he is and decided to change that. Besides, he can think of several instances where it can’t hurt to be a little bendier.

When he has showered and thrown on a fresh button-down, he walks, sports bag hanging from his shoulder and sipping his well-earned protein shake, to the elevator to take him back to the twenty-second floor. The lights in the empty hallway flicker to life when he passes through. He’s usually alone on this floor by the time he gets back from the gym. Sometimes he’ll encounter the janitor but most nights Gabriel has already finished his round by then.

A thick manila folder is waiting for him on his desk. Sales figures he hasn’t gotten around to checking during the day. Adler is expecting him to turn in his report on those by tomorrow noon. It’s going to be a long night.

Dean rubs his eyes. They are itchy and dry, strained from focusing on spreadsheets all day long. He unscrews his stainless steel bottle and pours the last swallow of water down his throat. He pinches the bridge of his nose, lets out a sigh and summons all the positive aspects about his job that justify the circumstances under which he has to work. The salary, yes, good argument. It pays for his downtown apartment and the leather interior of his hybrid car. What else… The promotion prospects. Praise, recognition, status. It’s all he ever wanted, right?

He takes his empty bottle and heads for the kitchen to get some more water. Oddly, there’s a faint light at the otherwise dark end of the hallway. Fueled by curiosity, Dean moves past the small but premium kitchenette to investigate who else could be around at this late hour. There is an open office area, like so many others here at Sandover, overlooked by a glass box that hosts another, quite spacious office. A man is marching up and down in front of an impeccable white desk, talking agitatedly with airpods in his ears. Dean has never seen him before, neither does he know whose office this is supposed to be.

The man has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows, exposing beautifully tan skin. The last time Dean had a tan like this was after he went to Ibiza to celebrate his college graduation. He hasn’t had the time to go anywhere far since. The man has stopped with his back to Dean, like he’s listing intently to what the person on the other end of the line has to say. Dean marvels at the breadth of his shoulders and how his navy slacks span tightly over thick thighs and ass. Dean licks his lips, entranced by the sight. Then he looks right into piercing blue eyes. He’s been caught staring.

 _Shit._ He produces a quick, awkward smile and turns on the heels of his Oxfords as heat rises to his face. He can only hope this incident won’t reach Adler’s ears. Otherwise it won’t matter how good his report is. Back in his office, safely behind a closed door, he remembers the still unfilled bottle in his hand.

Adler was very satisfied with his report. So much that he gave Dean five other time-consuming tasks to finish by Monday. Since Dean wants to really have at least some kind of weekend, he let his training slide today and has, once again, settled in for a long night. Sometime around ten thirty, he’s stuck. The numbers don’t make sense and Dean is too exhausted to find an explanation as to why they don’t make sense. He spends a few minutes looking for home workout equipment online but comes to the conclusion that he won’t have time to use it anyway and empties his shopping cart before he can complete the transaction.

He’s stuck in the wrong mindset. Maybe some golf will open his intellect for a new approach. Good thing he’s got his trusty putting mat. It’s been too long since he’s found the time to actually go to the course. He must have a disastrous handicap by now without proper practice.

“You play any other sports?” someone says suddenly and the golf ball ends up somewhere behind his desk.

Startled, Dean’s gaze shoots up to where a man is leaning against the frame of his open office door, arms leisurely crossed over his chest. It’s the guy he was caught watching two nights ago, like a creep.

“Um, basketball, sometimes,” he stumbles.

“Yeah?” the guy says, like he has difficulty imagining Dean chasing a ball and aiming it at a high up basket while dressed in loose shorts.

“Sure,” Dean says, “with my buddy, Sam. He, uh, he works at Sandover, too. He’s an agent at the call center.” Somehow, it embarrasses him to blurt out his basketball matches with his friend from a few floors below to one of the higher-ups. Higher than him, at least.

“I see,” the guy says.

“How about you?” Dean finds the courage to ask. “Do you play any sports?”

“I practice jujitsu,” he says and Dean is thrown off guard by the image this puts into his head. “Nice,” Dean says, just in time to stop himself from choosing another word, like ‘hot.’ It _is_ hot, though. Hot and intimidating.

He unfolds his arms and, one arm reached out, steps into Dean’s office. “Castiel Novak,” he says.

Dean knew that. He couldn’t help but research who that glass office belonged to after basically drooling over the man. Mr. Novak oversees Sandover’s subsidiaries in Shanghai, Kuala Lumpur and Singapore.

“Dean Smith,” he says as he takes the man’s hand. Novak’s grip is firm, just like Dean’s. It’s one of the first lessons you learn when you want to get somewhere in the corporate world; your handshake is part of your credentials. Have you got what it takes or not?

“It’s nice to have some company,” Novak says after they’ve let go. “It can get lonely sometimes. But with the time difference in our offices in Asia my presence is required at later hours than everyone else’s.”

Dean nods, thoughtfully.

“What, or rather who is keeping you up so late at night?” Novak asks then.

Dean thinks it can only be to his disadvantage to throw Adler under the bus. “No one,” he says. “I love my job so it’s easy to find motivation and give everything.”

Novak bursts out laughing. “Spare me your corporate values bullshit,” he says and Dean is momentarily thrown off kilter by his snide remark. “Who’re you reporting to?”

Dean swallows hard. “Mr. Adler,” he admits.

“My condolences,” Novak says dryly. The guy is starting to grow on him.

“Well,” he resumes, “one of the downsides of my job is that I have an unhealthy reliance on caffeine.”

“Huh, yeah. Me too.”

“I was about to get some coffee. You want one?” Novak offers.

Dean shakes his head. “Uh, no, thanks. I only drink green tea nowadays. It’s supposed to be better for your, you know…everything. Full of antioxidants.” He doesn’t mention that it’s supposed to help with weight loss as well.

“You do you,” Novak says. “See you around?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Dean says and with that, Novak is gone. The scent of his cologne lingers in the room and an optimistic shiver runs down Dean’s spine.

In the following nights, Novak makes a habit of stopping by Dean’s office to chat for a while, mostly small talk. They talk about their ongoing projects and Novak tells him funny anecdotes about his business trips to Asia. Dean misses travelling and he says so.

“I do, too,” Novak says, prompting a frown from Dean and he clarifies, “For leisure, that is. I usually don’t get to see much of the places I visit and the hotel meeting rooms look the same over there as they do here and the continental breakfast isn’t very exotic either.”

“I see,” Dean says.

Sadly, though, the visits are always short. It’s probably for the best, Dean thinks. He doesn’t spend night after night at the office because he’s thirsting after his fellow night owl—no, he’s here because he’s got work to do that will eventually earn him a corner office on the twenty-fifth floor.

Green tea doesn’t do the trick anymore and Dean has been sinning with Coke Zero a couple of times this week. It’s better not to think about what that stuff is doing to his body. All that caffeine has made him edgy and he can’t possibly sit any longer. Unsurprisingly, his feet steer him right towards Novak’s—Castiel’s (they’ve agreed on a first name basis the last time he came around)—office but when he gets there, the glass box and the open-plan office beneath it are cast into darkness. His heart sinks.

Disappointed, he drags himself back to his dreary, joyless chamber. He doesn’t feel like working tonight. He’s exhausted, tired and chugging tooth-eroding fizzy drink. At least Sandover’s health insurance covers dental. He drops his head, forehead plopping onto the open file on his desk and questions his life choices.

“Hey there,” Castiel’s raspy voice echoes in his ears.

For a second Dean is convinced he’s hearing things and it’s only wishful thinking but when he lifts his head, Castiel is standing in his doorway, holding a reusable Starbucks cup in his left hand.

“Cas,” Dean breathes out, relieved.

“I just had to endure the most boring dinner you could ever imagine,” he says and takes a sip from his cup. Is he coming from a date?

“Oh, yeah?” Dean inquires carefully.

“Your boss was there, too,” he says and Dean relaxes in his chair. A business dinner.

“It’s probably no news to you but that guy is a stuck-up—” Castiel bites his lip. “Who am I telling this? Of course, you know.”

Dean gives him a weak smile. “Good thing you’re at work now.”

With a smirk, Cas says, “Did you miss me?”

Dean makes a dismissive gesture. “I hadn’t even noticed you weren’t here yet?”

Cas snorts. “Liar.”

“It’s true,” Dean says, gets up from his seat and proceeds to round his desk. “I’ve been busy all night. What did you think? That I was sitting here, waiting for you to show up?”

“That’s how I’ve imagined you most nights, yes,” Castiel says as Dean comes closer.

He stops two feet away from him. It’s risky to speak his next question aloud. There’s a good chance he’s gravelly misinterpreting the situation but he’s getting this vibe from Cas. He’s been feeling it for a few nights now. “What else have you been imagining?” he says. And there it is—Cas hitches a breath.

“I’ve, uh.” He moistens his lips.

Dean decides to be bold and reaches out to straighten Cas’s perfectly even tie. It’s silky and the midnight blue compliments his eyes. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, right before he doesn’t seem to be able to take the anticipatory tension anymore and covers Dean’s mouth with his.

Dean sighs lowly. He raises a hand to let his thumb stroke gently over Cas’s clean-shaven cheek. His lips feel a little chapped but he doesn’t mind. Cas’s free hand finds his way around his waist, pulling him in. Dean’s thumb wanders onto Cas’s chin, dragging his mouth slightly open, not too much though, just giving him the idea, and Cas complies eagerly, opening up to him. His tongue is the flavor of bitter coffee and sweet milk. Dean really misses coffee. He’s been craving it ever since Cas has started to stop by, often with a steaming cup in his hand. Dean licks deeper into his mouth, chasing the aroma. It’s the perfect blend of coffee and Cas.

Cas pulls back. Panting, he says, “Easy. Some of us still need to breathe.”

“Sorry,” Dean says and he realizes he’s a little short-winded as well, his heart beating fast.

“Let me just,” Cas says, “let me just put this here,” and places his cup on top of the sideboard next to the door.

“You taste so good,” Dean says and claims his lips again.

Now that he’s got two hands free, one is still wrapped around his middle, the other snakes upwards on the back of Dean’s neck, settling into his hair. Dean wastes a maximum of one thought on his neatly styled hair being tousled.

Cas is gradually walking him backwards until his thighs hit his desk.

“I had a really awful evening,” Cas says, once again detaching his lips from Dean’s.

“Yeah?” Dean breathes. “How can I make up for it?”

“Well,” Cas says and licks his already glossy lips, “depends on how far you’re willing to go without feeling the urge to report me to HR.”

“Oh, the bar for that is very high,” Dean says. He can think about the consequences later.

“Is it, huh?”

Dean nods quickly and kisses him again. He fumbles blindly for Castiel’s belt and unbuckles it. He opens zip and button of Cas’s slacks, all without coming back for air, and reaches inside. Cas hardens under his hand and Dean smiles against his lips at that realization.

“You, mh,” Cas mumbles and separates once again from him. “You too,” he says and hurriedly goes to work on Dean’s pants. He doesn’t stop at his underwear, but, along with the slacks, yanks it down to mid-thigh and elicits a startled gasp from Dean as he urges him back to sit on the edge of his desk and before Dean’s brain has even caught up, Cas has pulled down his own briefs and exposed an impressive, beautifully flushed cock.

“Fuck,” Dean lets out but his sudden burst of astonishment is silenced by another hungry kiss and Cas’s erection is against his and he is starting to rock into him. Dean mimics the movement with his hips and Cas’s and his hands meet between their bodies, though dry, stroking blissfully along their throbbing shafts.

Dean speeds up his pace after only a short while. He’s so hard and feels like he’s going to burst when he doesn’t come soon. His thumb circles over a cockhead—is it his or Cas’s, he doesn’t know, but the sensation appears to be the same either way, there are hands and teasing fingers everywhere. He presses his body further against Cas’s, sucking his tongue into his mouth. Like this, yeah, he’s close, so close, and just with the right twist of someone’s wrist, Dean blows, covering both their hands in come, but Cas is right there with him, sighing into his mouth. They keep stroking themselves through their orgasm, breathing, and kissing, and breathing, and kissing.

Both their button-downs have come stains on them, Dean notices, when Cas takes a small step back. He pulls out a few Kleenex from the box on his desk and hands Cas some of them. They clean up as good as possible—his cleaner has probably seen worse, Dean thinks with another look at the lower half of his shirt—and when he’s done, Dean hops onto his feet and pulls up his pants.

“Was this okay for you?” Cas asks when they’re both (mostly) decent again. “I didn’t overstep any boundaries, did I?”

Dean pulls him into another kiss. “No,” he says. “It was great.”

Cas seems relieved. “Good. I thought so, too.”

They smile at each other for a moment, then Cas says, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, “So, uh, I should…” He grabs his coffee cup, moving back towards the door.

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. “Me too. Gotta finish this report.”

“Sure,” Cas says with one foot already over the threshold. “See you?”

“Yes.”

Cas waves briefly before disappearing out into the hallway.

Dean isn’t getting much work done tonight.

It was a mistake. It most definitely was. How could he? How could he put his career at risk like this? All the hard work for nothing. Technically, Cas is above his pay grade, so it is more his liability than it is Dean’s. But what they did was consensual and Dean shouldn’t have fucked everything up by sleeping around with their East and South Asia business manager. Well, sleeping around is a bit of an exaggeration. They had sex once. And it was awesome. Dean can’t stop thinking about. He almost jerked off to the memory while he was in the shower earlier but Dean thought it too risky. Apparently, though, having sex in his office with the door wide open didn’t seem risky enough the other day. Dean has spent his nights working at home since. This morning, however, he found an e-mail in his inbox from a certain Castiel Novak. It read as follows:

_I apologize in case you’ve changed your mind about boundaries. I thought we were on the same page but I understand if you thought it over and came to the conclusion that we better leave it be. Take care. –C_

Dean has been staring at this message every time he could spare a minute. He doesn’t want Castiel to feel guilty. The feeling is mutual. They’re in this together. Cas clearly misses him and Dean can’t stop thinking about him. Besides, it’s been forever since he got laid before he got on with Cas. His entire skin is prickling with want. He needs to touch Castiel again. He needs to see him.

He waits until he’s actually gotten some work done, though it’s difficult. A lamp in the corner of Castiel’s office is lit. The only other source of light is the glow of his computer screen. He’s sitting with his elbows on the desk, hands cradling his head. He’s got the airpods in, nodding slightly along with what is being said. His gaze is cast down at the desk surface, or maybe his eyes are closed, Dean can’t really see.

He steps up to the glass box and knocks on the transparent wall to get Cas’s attention. He looks up. Puzzled at first, then the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. He gestures Dean to come in but presses his forefinger against his lips when Dean has entered.

“Uh huh, I see,” he says and indicates Dean to come closer.

He takes a sticky note pad, writes something, and slides it towards Dean.

_Are we good?_

Dean rips off the note and reaches over the desk to grab Cas’s pen.

_Yes. I panicked. Sorry._

Cas smiles warmly after he’s read Dean’s note.

Dean gestures at the Breitling on his wrist, accompanied by a questioning look.

Cas shrugs. _Hours,_ he mouths, and Dean’s shoulders slack.

Then he gets an idea. He walks behind Cas’s chair, pulls him out from under the desk and turns him around. Cas looks confused but also curious about what’s going to happen.

Dean gets on his knees and Cas’s eyebrows rise, earning him an impish smirk from Dean. He starts by rubbing his hands along Cas’s thighs and Cas watches him with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He buries his face into Cas’s clothed crotch, pressing kisses into the expensive fabric. Then he starts pulling out Cas’s shirt from under the waistband. He runs his thumbs along the smooth leather of his belt before opening it.

“Uh huh, yes, I agree with that point of view,” Cas says, meeting Dean’s eyes. Unblinking, he opens Cas’s pants all the way. With one layer gone, he goes back to mouthing at Cas’s crotch. He’s getting hard and Dean can’t wait to find out what he feels like on his tongue but, patience. This can’t be over too soon.

He pushes Cas’s shirt up a bit and drops kisses on his lower abdomen. His skin there is as tan as the rest he’s seen exposed. Tan and smooth and...abs. Wow.

A thin line of hair trails down from under his navel and disappears under his briefs. Castiel obviously doesn’t do as much manscaping as Dean but he doesn’t mind. He slips two fingers under the waistband and pulls down just enough to free his cock. He’s hard, though not quite there yet. Cas lifts is ass slightly to allow Dean to move his clothing further out of the way.

Dean kisses the inside of his right thigh, then the left, prompting goosebumps there from Cas. These thighs, though…Dean can’t suppress a mental image of him sinking down in this gorgeous lap, fucking himself on that beautiful cock. The thought makes his mouth water which is just right, considering what he’s planning to do.

He’s back at rubbing the now bare thighs with his palms again and makes sure to catch Dean’s gaze before finally licking along his shaft, all the way up from root to tip and it twitches under his tongue. Dean lets out a silent chuckle.

“Yes, I’m here,” Cas says, “please, continue.”

Dean takes him by his word and wraps his lips around Cas’s cockhead, sucking briefly before swallowing him down as far as it goes and Cas stifles a gasp. He turns his head expertly as he bobs up and down Cas’s cock. He tastes nice, must have had a shower right before driving to the office. His tongue glides along velvety skin, giving special attention to the glossy, almost purple tip from time to time. He licks away pre-come, all salt and tang, alternating to the clean taste of the shaft again.

Cas is clenching his fingers around the arm rest of his chair. He’s only capable of monosyllabic replies by now but the other person doesn’t seem to mind or notice. Dean is searching his eyes from time to time. They’re glazy, their blue even more vibrant than usual.

With his hands still on Cas’s hands he spreads them slightly to make room for one hand to go under his sack. He squeezes his balls slightly, not too much pressure, which earns him a more than positive response from Cas who is fumbling with his phone to mute his microphone and as soon as it’s done, he groans, “Dean, please.” He sounds so desperate, how could Dean deny him anything, so he gets back to sucking his cock, all the while playing with his balls.

The speed of Cas’s breathing has increased notably, he’s basically whining by now, so Dean picks up his pace as well. He uses his other hand to work the spit-slick shaft, his mouth focusing more on the head now, twisting his head as he draws him in, again and again.

Cas’s dick is rock-hard now in his hand, trembling. “Dean,” he moans in warning but Dean is going nowhere. He wants to catch his load on his tongue, feel it hotly running down his throat. He wants to suck him dry.

And then Cas’s entire body tenses as he comes into Dean’s mouth. Dean is so overwhelmed that he doesn’t manage swallow everything. Come is coating his lips, dripping down the sides of his mouth onto Cas’s thigh. When Cas comes to his senses again, he slips a hand under Dean’s chin, urging him to meet his eyes, and rubs his thumb across Dean’s come-covered lips, spreading the white even more.

“Kiss me,” he says, and Dean obliges readily, smearing Cas’s face with his own semen.

“That one’s on me,” Dean says and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he walks out of Cas’s office, leaving him to his phone call.

When he’s out of Cas’s sight, he stops and adjusts himself in his pants. So, that was intense. With some friction he could have come as well just from blowing the guy.

Dean is just about to leave for the gym when his phone rings. It’s an internal call; the name “Novak” flashes on the display.

Perplexed, Dean picks up. “Hello?”

“Are you going to the gym today?” Cas’s voice sounds rough and much deeper than in person.

“Uh, yeah. I was just on my way. Why?”

“How about you shower extra thoroughly today… I mean, if you’re up to it.”

Dean shivers. “Um, okay, sure, yes. Definitely.”

“Great. Come around my office at nine thirty,” Cas says and with that he hangs up.

If Dean is cutting tonight’s workout short, no one needs to know; he has to devote a big chunk of his gym time to showering after all. But he’s focusing a lot on stretching today and wishes he’d gotten into that part sooner.

He checks himself a couple of times in the mirror before he leaves for his floor. His hair has this straight-out-of-bed look now and Dean doesn’t hate it. He forgoes tie—it would be coming off soon again anyway—and leaves the top of his shirt unbuttoned. He’s wearing suspenders today and hopes Cas will find them as sexy as he does. They definitely accentuate his chest, make it look broader. And he’s particularly well prepared in the downstairs department. It’s a shame, though, that he hasn’t had the time lately for a nice waxing. But Dean’s already established that Cas isn’t averse to a little bit of hair.

There is still some time left to kill before Dean is expected and it’s torture. All he can think of is what Cas is going to do to him. What he might be doing. What he’s going to look and feel like. Dean chews restlessly on his lip, watching the minutes drag by in the bottom left corner of his computer screen.

Twenty minutes past nine he can’t wait any longer. And, hey, it’s still a few minutes’ walk to Castiel’s office and he doesn’t want to be late, does he?

Cas is leaning against his desk with his back to the door, his thumb scrolling on his phone. Dean knocks briefly but doesn’t wait for Cas to turn before he walks in.

“I hope I’m not too early,” he says.

“You’re just right,” Cas says, beaming, and puts the phone down. “Come, please.”

“Long night again?” Dean asks and joins Cas on his side of the desk.

“Depends,” Cas says, chewing on his thumbnail. “But my call tonight was cancelled, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Cas’s response knocks the air out of him. He gulps.

“You look nice,” Cas says and hooks his fingers under Dean’s suspenders.

“Thanks,” Dean says sheepishly.

“I like a man in suspenders,” he says, pulls, and lets them snap. Dean winces theatrically. It didn’t hurt, but Cas licks his lip following the reaction.

“How was your workout?”

“Good.” They’re everything but far apart, yet holding back the urge to kiss.

“I bet you were all hot and sweaty.”

“Dripping, actually. But I had a very long shower. Did a lot of scrubbing.”

“Yeah?” Cas breathes out. He’s clinging to his suspenders.

“I wanted to be all nice and clean for you.”

“Oh, I was hoping you’d say that,” he says.

Slowly, he pushes the suspenders off Dean’s shoulders, pulls the collar of his shirt aside and leaves a wet kiss on his neck, evoking a heavy sigh from Dean. Then he goes to open the remaining buttons and pulls the shirt out of his pants.

“Now you,” Dean says and Cas quickly unbuttons and removes his own shirt.

Dean is left breathless at the sight of him. His chest has a beautiful tan, too, and defined, mouth-watering pecks—he wants to lick the gap between them.

Apparently, he has spoken his last thought aloud, because Cas encourages him, “Then do it.” And so he does, dragging his tongue up along Cas’s firm chest, skin incredibly smooth and tasting absolutely delicious. He places his hands on either of Cas’s pecks, gives them an experimental squeeze, then circles the nipples with his thumbs, all the while Cas watches, patient, captivated.

“How do you like that?” Dean says, catching his eye.

“Hm, a lot,” Cas says, leans in, and finally kisses him on the mouth, his tongue leisurely gliding alongside his. A hand comes to comb through his hair, gently pulling at strands, and Dean opens up, allowing him deeper, their bare chests pressed together. Dean’s hands move onto Cas’s lower back, onto his ass, and—god!—is that tight, too. How does he do it? How can he be so perfect?

Fighting for air, Cas pulls back. “You came for me to fuck you tonight, right?”

Dean melts like butter in Cas’s arms at his words. “Oh, please, yes!”

“Good,” Cas says, licking his teeth, reaches for one of his desk drawers and pulls out a bottle of lube and a strip of condoms. “I’m glad we’re having the same intentions here.” Dean breathes heavily.

“First, though, I want to show you something,” Cas says, picks up a small remote and flips a switch. Dean’s mouth falls open when, suddenly, the glass of Cas’s office walls turns opaque.

“Smartglass,” he says, grinning.

“How much did that cost?”

“Enough,” Cas says and drops the remote again, “but my work brings the expenses back into Sandover tenfold.”

“Anyway, now that we’re behind actual walls, I don’t think you have an excuse to still be keeping your pants on.”

Dean smiles mischievously. “Well, I’m taking my pants off if you do,” he says and slowly drags down the zipper of his slacks.

Cas mirrors the motion and when they both have their pants down to their thighs, he reaches out to cup Dean’s cheek and kisses him again. Dean pulls him closer by the hip and pushes into him with his crotch, eliciting a strangled groan from Cas that goes from their joined mouths right down his throat. He fumbles with Dean’s shirt still in the way until it’s off and throws it somewhere behind him. It’s a really expensive shirt but Dean doesn’t mind, no. What matters is that it’s gone now and he has Cas’s warm hands roaming all over his back.

“I’ve thought a lot about what you did last night,” Cas whispers in his ear, “what your mouth felt like around my cock. You sucked me so good, Dean, I can’t wait to know what your hole feels like,” he says, tightly grasping one of his ass cheeks. “How does that sound, Dean? Would you like to have my cock like that?”

Dean lets out an exasperated groan. “Mhm, Cas, less talking, please. Just do it.”

And with that, Cas spins him around and shoves him against the desk. “As you wish,” he says and rips down Dean’s briefs. “You can’t, however,” he says, dragging his hands along Dean’s back, “deny me a little bit of teasing.” He kisses the back of Dean’s neck, hands stroking his sides, pushing his thumbs into his lower back, and, eventually, giving some attention to his ass, kneading the cheeks. Dean can feel Cas standing close, like he’s itching rub his clothed groin against him, but he doesn’t.

“Move your feet apart a bit,” he says. “Yes, good.” With a hand on Dean’s shoulder he holds him down, while, a finger of the other one finds his whole. It’s moist; he must’ve licked it and Dean imagines how Cas has to look sucking at his own finger, taking two, taking three. Taking his cock.

“Do you like me touching you there?”

Dean moistens his lips. “Yeah, please, go on.”

He takes the lube that’s next to Dean’s head and, after a klick, Cas’s finger is back, cool and slick, circling his rim, poking at first, then pushing in earnest and Dean exhales as it glides in. He pulls out slightly, then comes back in, and so he does for a while, then a second finger stretches him and Dean draws his bottom lip in between his teeth, trying to breathe steadily.

Cas runs a hand through his hair, still fucking him with his fingers, and leans over him. “Does this feel good?” Dean turns his head to the side and meets his eyes. He nods. “Do you think you can take me now? Do you want to?”

Dean replies with a kiss, long and languid, yet soft. “Yes.”

Cas smiles briefly, then he’s gone again, withdrawing his fingers. He rips off a condom and Dean hears the rustling of the wrapper being torn. He glances over his shoulder to find Cas stroking his hardened cock, spreading lube on the condom.

Cas catches his gaze and raises a brow, playfully. They don’t break eye contact when Cas starts pushing, the head of his cock breaching Dean’s rim. Dean lets out a long exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, focusing on the feeling, breathing through the tightness. Cas keeps coming forward, as far as it goes, then stills to give Dean time to adjust.

“You feel so good, Dean,” he says, a strain in his voice, and a hand gently stroking his back.

“Okay,” Dean says, another exhale, “go.” And with that, Cas pulls back, and thrusts into him again. Not ramming, though, carefully. He’s taking it slow and Dean likes it just like that, gradually building the tension.

He’s dropping kisses on his back as he keeps fucking him. Then, he picks up the pace, and Dean is biting down on his forearm, failing in drowning out his moans. Cas feels so good inside him, filling him up, making him whole. His hands are everywhere and before Dean realizes what’s happening, the sensation is gone and Cas has pulled out. Dean looks around in confusion, but Cas is already there, maneuvering him to be face to face with him and lays him down on the desk. Quickly, he takes off one of his shoes so he can pull pants and briefs off one leg as well, clothing still dangling from the other, and crowds in between Dean’s drawn up limbs.

Dean finds himself smiling when Cas’s face comes close for a kiss. They don’t break apart when he feels Cas push back inside him and Dean loops his arms around his, holding him there. As much he’d like to see Cas towering over him, holding him with his arms hooked behind his thighs and fucking into him relentlessly, he likes this, their sloppy making out as they fuck, his own cock deliciously trapped between their bodies.

After some time, though, this is not enough and Cas has to be feeling the same way, because his pace picks up, the thrusts coming with more force, and Dean tries to pull him deeper, urging to fuck him harder, and Cas does. Oh, and how he does. He’s taking him so good, hitting bullseye on his prostate every time now and Dean is moaning without restrain. They’ve stopped kissing, needing every precious bit of oxygen they can get, and Cas is burying his forehead into the crook of Dean’s neck, his raging breaths hot and wet against his skin. And then he blacks out, his orgasm hitting him with full force, he almost misses as Cas’s movement suddenly stutters and stills for a second before he’s picking back up again, riding out the waves of his climax.

A minute or so later, he has stopped entirely and they’re both just breathing, holding each other. The come on Dean’s stomach is starting to cool but he doesn’t mind. Cas is still inside him, softening though, and he eventually pulls out.

He removes the condom, ties a knot at the end, and throws it into the trash. Then he retrieves a box of tissues from a drawer and helps Dean to his feet as he stops the come on his skin with a tissue before it can drip on the carpet.

“Thanks,” Dean says.

Cas smiles, gaze cast down. “That was really…something. You were really…great.”

“You were, too,” Dean says, lifting Cas’s face with a hand on his cheek to meet his eyes. They smile at each other, briefly, before Dean kisses him.

Cas agrees to text him when he’s home, no matter how late it is, and Dean promises to do the same. Dean has this weird feeling, the one with the butterflies, that indicates this might be more than just sex. For him at least, he’s not entirely sure about Cas.

The following days they text a lot. There’s no time for phone calls and they both have come to the conclusion they’ve let their work slide a bit lately, so they don’t hook up at work either for some time. But when they do, it’s all Dean could ever dream of.

“Shit, Dean, I’m almost, fuuuck…”

Dean is bouncing frantically in Cas’s lap, fucking himself on his cock. He’s dizzy already, but he holds his balance with both hands tightly gripping onto the leather-clothed backrest of Cas’s Lexus. _Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop now._ But Cas is digging his fingernails into his back as he throws his head back.

“Dean, please, stop. Shit, I’m sorry.”

Dean can barely think straight.

“Just…just lie down. I’ve got you.” Cas’s cock has slipped out of him but Dean is receptive enough to do what he’s being told and, with his hands on Dean’s hips, Cas directs him into a position on his back. Good that they’ve spread out a blanket over the seats. Otherwise the tan leather would already be covered in lube and probably come.

Dean throws one leg over the bench, the other finds footing on the passenger seat, and Cas settles between them, his mouth quickly coming around his aching cock and he slides two fingers up his thoroughly lubed hole.

Dean whines under him. He’s so close, he needs to come so badly. Cas sucks him hard, working the shaft with one hand. There’s no need for teasing anymore, he just draws him in with his mouth and strokes, while the other hand fucks him, stimulating his prostate, and Dean clenches around Cas’s fingers as he comes and in heavy hot spurts into Cas’s mouth.

“Man, for a second there I thought you wouldn’t make it,” Cas says when he sits up, licking come from the corner of his mouth. “I’ve never seen you so needy before.”

“That’s because you’ve never fucked me so good before,” Dean says, lazily stroking his chest.

“Lie,” Cas says, “I always fuck you as good as you deserve.”

“But today was better,” Dean says and Cas pulls him up by his arm into a kiss.

The truth is, though, Dean has come to realize how much he likes Cas. Like, _really_ like him.

When they’re all cleaned up and dressed again, they get stuck making out leaning against Cas’s car.

“I really need to go now,” Dean says, trying to entangle himself from Cas without much effort. “I promised my sister to watch a movie with her tonight and gossip.”

Cas takes his hand and lifts it to his lips, stroking his thumb over Dean’s manicured fingers. “I’m not keeping you from going.”

“You do and you know it.” He’s feeling weak in his knees. Not just because he really put much strain on his thighs only a few minutes ago.

Cas kisses him one last time. “Fine, go. You’re dismissed,” he says and lets go of Dean. “Wait, there’s one thing I meant to ask you.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to have dinner tomorrow?”

Dean is glad he still has the car behind him for support. “Dinner, with you?”

“Yes, tomorrow night. I’ll make a reservation and tell you the time.”

Dean swallows. He feels like he’s floating all of a sudden. “Sure. I’d like that.”

So, they’re having a date. A real date. Not just office and car sex. He’ll have to ask his sister what he’s supposed to wear. This is serious. Cas asked him out on a date. He cannot mess this up.

They meet in a restaurant of Castiel’s choice. It’s hip and new but also has moody lighting and if Dean has had any doubt that this was supposed to be a romantic kind of date, it’s gone now. Cas is in a dark shirt and dark jacket, no tie, and he looks fabulous. Dean has set on a purple sweater, gray shirt underneath.

Dean orders a salad and the portion’s enough to be a main course. He sticks to water, as usual. Were he to drink wine, he’d probably be tipsy after only one glass, considering how long he’s gone without.

They talk a lot. About work, about everything. After Cas has taken care of the bill—he insisted—Dean asks him to come back to his apartment and so they drive there, separately, Cas’s Lexus tailing him.

He feels self-conscious when he welcomes Cas in his home. His place is probably bigger and far more luxurious. He’s not entirely sure why that thought occurs to him.

“So,” Dean says, “this is where I live.”

“I like it,” Cas says, his eyes wandering around the living area. Dean likes it tidy and simple. There are black and white photographs one the walls, a black leather sofa and a huge TV that he hardly ever gets to use. The kitchen is a spotless white. He usually only prepares shakes and smoothies in the blender anyway.

“I would offer you coffee but since I’ve stopped drinking that… Would you like some tea?”

“I would love some,” Cas says and Dean shivers at his use of the L-word. _He’s talking about tea and it’s much too soon for that anyway._

“Is that your family?” Cas says and picks up a framed picture.

“Yes,” Dean says and starts the kettle. He walks over to him. “My mom, my dad, and my sister Jo.”

“They look nice.”

“They’re great. I love them.”

“I hope I get to meet them some day.” And with that Cas meets his eyes.

Dean licks his lips, stalling. “Why do you like me, Cas?” he blurts out. “I mean… _if_ you like me. Not just the things we do.”

“Dean,” Cas says, putting his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “Why do you have to ask me that?”

“It’s because, um, I mean—you’re much more successful. I’m just a sales guy. And you…you’re perfect. You’ve accomplished so much in your job and—just look at you! How are you doing it? I don’t see you sipping shakes all the time and—”

Cas silences him with a kiss. “You’re gorgeous,” he says, “no matter how many times a week you go to the gym or what you eat and drink. I don’t care how much you have or haven’t achieved in your job. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself, Dean. To me, you _are_ perfect.”

Dean lets out a calm breath through his nose. “Do you still want the tea or will you follow me right to my bed?”

Cas replies with a soft smile and another kiss. When they have sex tonight, missionary style, it’s slow and gentle and all Dean never knew he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


End file.
